


Fuck, Marry, Kill

by Shes-claws-deep (CyrilOdahviing)



Series: Flash Sale Nov 2018 [6]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Fuck Marry Kill, Fun Games, fmk, for once, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyrilOdahviing/pseuds/Shes-claws-deep
Summary: During a Christmas party on base, Meghan suggests a fun little game of Fuck, Marry, Kill.





	Fuck, Marry, Kill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baysian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baysian/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Fuck, Marry, Kill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17153318) by [baysian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baysian/pseuds/baysian)



Deep into your cups at a team Christmas party, Meghan tipsily yells out that everyone should play Fuck, Marry, Kill. Just for fun, you know? You, in the spirit of having fun, say yes with a cheer. Now that you’re on board, she shoos you away to gather the ‘contestants’ and for you to come up with a couple of questions.

You sit in the kitchen with a full beer can, sipping from it with a bobbing knee as you listen hard for the antics going on in the rec room. You hear giggles, hearty guffaws, and even a bit of goodnatured dry-heaving going on behind you. It makes you furrow your brow, worrying at your lip as you think about who they would provide you as your options for fuck, marry, or kill.

The Germans? Mmm, they wouldn’t be so bad. Marius is a joker, fun to be around but equally as exhausting. Dominic, a little bit too intense despite the laugh lines in the corner of his eyes. Elias too kind and too wholesome; you’d hate to break him. Monika…that complex of hers does grate on your nerves. You’d fuck her, though.

The Russians-

“We’re ready!” Meghan has her hands hooked on the back of your shirt before you can even jolt up, hauling you bodily to the sofa in the other room where she plops you in a chair. “Ok, now, whatever you do? Don’t turn around.”

Shuffling. Lots and lots of shuffling and heavy footsteps of three men. Immediately you start to think; heavy footsteps, all of them. Not one of the men with lighter builds, which means they’re part of the middleweights, as you call it. Fairly tall and fairly heavy, but not the tallest nor the heaviest. Not Chul Kyung, Ryad or Maxim, they walk with lighter steps, careful and measured. Still, that leaves a good number of men who could be your ‘options’.

“Okay, now you can turn around!”

With a sigh, you down the rest of your beer and swivel around in the chair. Only to stop halfway through when you lay eyes on who they selected to be your options. Oh mama, you’re so glad you work at Rainbow.

Jordan Trace, Craig Jenson, and Erik Thorn all grin at you, crossing their beefy arms over their chests, all of them clearly enjoying the elevator stare you give to each of them. Rightfully so, for you’d fuck, marry, _and kill_ each of them if you had the chance.

“Just to let you know, you can’t fuck all of them,” Meghan whispers into your ear, a lascivious grin spreading across her own face as she hovers by your ear.

“Spoilsport,” you shoot back at her without taking your eyes off them.

Jordan laughs, flexing his arms and hiking his shirt sleeve up onto his shoulder. Craig matches him and flexes both of his huge biceps, going so far as to pose comically before he’s pushed aside by his FBI comrade. Erik, on the other hand, just raises a finger to his lips and shifts to show off his muscular thighs instead. Oh yeah, he might not match the other two men in the upper body arena, but he knows his ass and thighs are to die for.

You bite your lip at the display, digging your fingernails into your palms to avoid humiliating yourself by going and rubbing up all over your coworkers. Back to the game, girl! Focus! Shaking your head, you fiddle with the beer can.

Craig straightens up to his full, intimidating height, smoothing his sleeves back down and laughing at himself. He’s a bear of a man, in stature and in mannerism. His resting bitch face is a real thing, but he makes up for it by being so caring and understanding and just so generally unflappable that everyone forgets about his RBF. If there was one thing that is his claim to fame, it’s that he managed to get the local recluse, Chul Kyung, to open up to him. If that doesn’t represent the amount of ‘dad’ he exudes, nothing will. He just seems to take everyone under his wing, to want to be rock and anchor for them.

Erik is quieter. More dangerous. Like the leopards you once saw in the South African wildlands, you will never see him unless he wants to be seen. He’s mysterious, that one. An enigma for all the right and wrong reasons. What do you really know about him, anyway? He likes to cook, he likes to travel, he’s eerily perceptive to the point of being creepy, and that he loves the sense of brotherhood and family he feels on base. It’s not really much in the grand scheme of things; could you really live with someone who you’ll likely never truly know?

Ah, and Jordan. Silly, stubborn Jordan. As you watch him, he fluidly avoids bumping into Erik, only to slam into the side of a table with a loud swear. If there was one person you thought you’d never get along with, it would have been Jordan. On paper, the pyromaniac is reckless, has no sense of self-preservation, and doesn’t seem to take himself very seriously. But under all that is a man who is deeply loyal and protective, willing to sacrifice everything to achieve his goal or to protect those he loves dearly. That recklessness is out of the confidence of self, his lack of self-preservation the willingness to put others above himself, his humour a shield against his own demons.

You mull on it, gnawing on the beer can as you stare into space. The men leave you alone, knowing you’re just taking a wee bit longer to think. At least, you thought they did, because ice cold metal shocks you back to reality. “Holy-!” you yelp, clapping a hand on your temple and looking up at Jordan who’s holding a fresh can aloft, that charming grin back on his face.

“Noticed that you ran empty,” he answers your unspoken question, nodding to the slightly crushed can in your hands. “I’ll get rid of that for you?”

Unspeakably, a blush rises on your cheeks and you nod, taking the fresh beer can and handing the crumpled aluminium to him, your eyes glued on his ass as he wanders over to the kitchen to dump it in the recycling bin. That…is one tight ass.

“I’ve got my answer.”

Craig leans against the wall and groans, “Shit, I should’ve gotten her the beer!”

Erik laughs and shakes his head, murmuring softly, “I think she had her answer from the start. Nothing you or I did would’ve changed that decision.”

How astute. Also true.

“I’ll marry Jordan; I’d wake up to that ass every day for the rest of my life if I had to. Fuck Erik, because he’s quiet and I don’t need another headache in the sack-” You don’t get to finish before Erik is guffawing loudly and Craig is wailing dramatically against the wall. Alcohol does strange things to people. Really strange things.

“Y-you’re gonna kill me?” Craig pretends to sob, hiding his face.

“Well, I can’t fuck two of you, can I?” You roll your eyes, jumping yet again (godDAMNIT) when Jordan’s heavily bandaged hand lands on your shoulder.

“Eh, I don’t think Meggie’s gonna blame you if you bend the rules a bit. I mean, I’d fuck both of them.” Whether that’s a possibility or not is going to be reserved for another wet dream.

Meanwhile, Craig is still faking his sobbing, though this time he’s crawled all the way to your chair. “Mercyyyyyy. Don’t let me dieeee~”

You pretend to think. “Hmm, to kill or to fuck, that is the question.”

_“Both. Why not both?”_ said the angelic voices of Meghan and Jordan in either ear.

Laughter bursts out of you, breaking up your words as you nod and choke out, “Death by fucking, it is!”

Craig throws his hands into the air. “Hallelujah!” And then, a pause. “Wait, I’m still getting killed, aren’t I?”


End file.
